


I was the only one who hated you

by latelight



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, felix stop biting people, mild jealousy, not for the usual reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 08:15:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20386555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latelight/pseuds/latelight
Summary: “Felix,” he ventured. “Are you…jealous?”It would appear Felix agreed it was a stupid thought, because his face warped with fury and he launched himself at Dimitri anew. “Jealous!” he said. “As if I would” —clang— “envy that woman” —clang— “the company of an animal like you!”Somewhat satisfied with having driven Dimitri back, he stood there for a moment leaking resentment. “It disgusts me is all. Watching a beast feign human emotion, it’s too pathetic for words.”





	I was the only one who hated you

“Got your eye on the professor, huh?” 

Dimitri looked up. The figure blotting out the sun was difficult to make out, but the hands behind the head, and the suggestive tone; it could only be one person. 

“Sylvain,” he protested. “You should know such intentions would hardly be appropriate.”

“And yet I don’t see you denying it,” Sylvain said. He dropped onto the bench next to Dimitri and turned his attention to the center of the training grounds, where Dimitri had been looking just a moment before. “Admit it, His Highness here has a little crush on the professor. No shame in that. I’ll even give you some pointers—don’t waste your time with flattery, or perfume, or lipstick."

“Sylvain.”

Sylvain said, “She’s a tough one to crack.”

Dimitri frowned. “Could your advances not have waited at least a few weeks?” He raised his voice over the sound of training swords clashing in the background. “It’s an honor that the child of Jeralt has chosen to lead our class. I’m afraid you’ll make her regret her decision.”

“You’re changing the subject,” said Sylvain, doing exactly that. “Point is, anyone can see you’re into her. Even Felix says you’re following her around like a lost puppy.”

Dimitri’s eyes fixed onto the two figures sparring in the distance. “Oh? Felix said that?”

“Uh, he probably used the word ‘pathetic’ too.”

They fell quiet. It was strange to think that Felix spoke of him at all, or took notice of his behavior enough to say such things. What else was he saying about him when he was not around? He had made his opinion of Dimitri very clear in the brief and strained exchanges they’d had since entering Garreg Mach, but to think about what his childhood friend thought of him now was still—uncomfortable. 

The fray in the center of the grounds grew in intensity while they looked on.

“She’s got Felix on the ropes,” said Sylvain. “Not that he wouldn’t like that. A worthy opponent, like he’s always on about. Hey, you don’t think Felix might also have a—" 

“Dimitri,” the professor called, thankfully before Sylvain could take his thought to its conclusion. “You’re up.”

Felix had been knocked to the ground, panting. His own training sword had clattered beside him and his hair was coming slightly undone from its knot.

Sylvain patted Dimitri on the shoulder. “Go get 'em.”

Dimitri ignored this. He stood and walked toward the professor, weighing his lance in his hands and rolling the stiffness from his shoulders.

“I can still train,” Felix was saying as Dimitri stopped in front of them.

“You can take a break,” the professor corrected him. She turned her unsettlingly blank eyes onto Dimitri. “And Dimitri has been waiting for so long.”

“It’s alright,” said Dimitri, with sincerity. “I don’t mind waiting a while longer.”

Felix only got himself up off the ground and muttered his thanks at the professor, who nodded in return. He collected his training sword and made to leave without acknowledgment of Dimitri. Dimitri opened his mouth to say something inane, like ‘Thank you for understanding, Felix’ or ‘You did well,’ but then Felix did acknowledge him, if only by raising his eyes and giving him a hard look as he passed by. _Boar_, said the look.

Dimitri kept his expression from changing. The professor looked equally unmoved, though from her position she could not have seen anything anyway.

“Wait up, Felix. Have you eaten yet?” Sylvain called from behind them, and the training grounds quieted as he abandoned them as well.

“Ready?” said the professor. She gave Dimitri a moment to prepare himself before making the first strike.

Dimitri grunted as he blocked it. He could see that her long bout with Felix beforehand had not tired her at all. His admiration of the professor was certain, but Sylvain had misread it; this was the reason he respected her, for her prowess on the battlefield, just as he had witnessed it the day she had come to their aid against the bandits. He supposed in this respect he and Felix were alike, seeking out the strong in their own mindless drive to grow stronger. Felix would not like to hear that.

“Focus,” the professor directed him, knocking aside his lance with ease.

“Sorry, Professor,” said Dimitri, and he emptied his mind of everything but the bout at hand.

***

Felix so rarely sought him out that whenever he did, Dimitri could not help but feel pleased. One could call it making progress, when they sparred at the training grounds for hours on end, even if his sparring partner did not allow conversation. It was an idea he thought Felix would gut him for, so he entertained it privately and tried not to let on that he enjoyed their infrequent training sessions. Felix certainly did not seem to enjoy it. He wore the same displeased expression every time, the whole way through, and never failed to let Dimitri know how little he desired his company.

One night Dimitri had fallen asleep over a pile of books at his desk, candle still burning away, when he was startled awake by a voice at the door. 

“Boar prince,” said the voice. “I know you’re up, I can see the light.”

Though it was late, well beyond the hours in which one could politely summon another from their room, Dimitri roused himself. He answered the door and found Felix on the other side. 

“Felix,” he said. “What brings you here at this hour?”

Felix took him in, rough-voiced and hair disheveled, and for a moment Dimitri thought he was going to apologize. Instead he said, “If you’ve nothing better to do, come train with me. My sword will rust from lack of use.”

Dimitri knew that Felix trained with the professor whenever possible just as he himself did, and failing that with Sylvain and Ingrid, and then patched up the remainder of his waking hours with abusing the defenseless wooden training dummies, but it had been a few weeks since he and Dimitri had sparred. Dimitri smiled. “No, we wouldn’t want that,” he said.

Felix’s eyes tracked down and back up his rather rumpled state of undress before landing on his face, unimpressed. “Ready yourself. I’ll be at the grounds.” Without waiting for a reply he spun and left, disappearing into the shadowed hallway. 

By the time Dimitri dressed and stole down to the training grounds, Felix was sitting cross-legged in the moonlight, his back to the entrance. He looked peaceful enough to have been meditating.

Dimitri approached him from behind. Perhaps because he had not fully woken up yet, or because of the moonlight, he took a chance at conversation. “You know I am happy to train with you at any time, but you shouldn’t miss sleep to do so."

“A wild beast has no place lecturing humans on how to live,” said Felix.

Very well, thought Dimitri. He gripped his lance loosely in his hand and waited as Felix stood and turned around. When they were face to face he motioned for Felix to make the first move.

Contempt crossed Felix’s features and his sword swept outward in an instant, so that Dimitri had to retreat or be caught in its radius. 

“Don’t pretend to be courteous,” Felix said.

“I was not pretending,” Dimitri said, even though he knew the correct thing to do would be to stay quiet. Felix, no longer waiting, began to make his attack in earnest. Dimitri parried each blow and the clangs of dull metal filled the air.

Felix redirected his vitriol into his sword rather than his words, and for a while they fought silently. Dimitri’s mind began to clear under the cool night sky and the weight of the rhythmic blows reverberating through his hands. 

On the other hand, Felix grew ever more aggressive. Each time Dimitri blocked him, he doubled his force in retaliation, delivering blow after blow until he had pressed Dimitri into the corner of the training grounds. Chest, face, wrist, his sword found any opening, and then it came crashing downward from above and Dimitri barely caught it with his lance, pushing it back along the edge of metal with a long scraping sound. Felix jumped back.

“What’s wrong, boar?” he said. “Too tired to fight back?”

“You seem on edge tonight, Felix,” Dimitri observed. “What has you so worked up you sought me out to spar in the dead of night?"

Felix actually rolled his eyes. “Don’t think you can play counselor to me just because we’re the only two here.” He seemed to consider something he had said and then grew angrier still, lunging in to deliver a strike at Dimitri’s ribs. 

Dimitri swept it aside with his lance. That had been exactly what he was thinking, that Felix might thaw enough that they could—not have a pleasant conversation, exactly, but spar without the constant barrage of insults coming from his mouth. He could see now that he had been wrong. Felix was very alert and irascible as always.

If it was a fight he wanted, Dimitri could give him that. He twirled the training lance and then advanced on Felix and swept at his knees. Felix dodged and wove back toward him, but before he could regain the offensive Dimitri struck again, then again and again in quick succession. Felix huffed a breath with the effort of blocking the blows and staggered backward.

“Well, well,” he said. “Looks like all those lessons with the professor aren’t wasted after all.”

“I could say the same for you,” said Dimitri, cautiously relieved to see Felix warming to their training. “I can hardly find her for a bout when I want to, you seem to have her schedule booked so thoroughly. I’m glad to see you’ve taken a shine to her." 

Felix’s gaze hardened. “I’m not the one following her around like a lovesick puppy,” he said, and struck at Dimitri’s stomach before he had finished speaking.

Dimitri dodged. “Lovesick?” He frowned. That made two people who thought he had romantic designs on the professor. It was true that Dimitri’s feelings for her had developed beyond pure appreciation of her skills over the past several months, but to think that he was going around acting lovesick? And enough so that even Felix would notice?

Felix did not seem to like what Dimitri had zeroed in on. Scowl deepening, he took advantage of Dimitri’s momentary pause to lash out once again at his stomach. This time the blow connected, the force of it knocking the breath out of him even with the light armor he wore to absorb the impact. 

Dimitri moved out of range to catch his breath. There were many reasons Felix hated him, but this one was almost too stupid to consider. And yet it was no secret the professor seemed to favor Dimitri, who after all was the head of the Blue Lions house, inviting him to tea and dinner and paying such attention to his lessons. 

He could see why Felix might be upset at the preferential treatment, and after he had insinuated that Felix was the one stealing away the professor’s time, too. 

“Felix,” he ventured. “Are you…jealous?”

It would appear Felix agreed it was a stupid thought, because his face contorted with fury and he launched himself at Dimitri anew. “Jealous!” His sword matched its owner’s fury and slashed at Dimitri from a dozen directions at once. “As if I would” —_clang_— “envy that woman” —_clang_— “the company of an animal like you!” 

Somewhat satisfied with having driven Dimitri back, he stood there for a moment leaking resentment. “It disgusts me is all. Watching a beast feign human emotion, it’s too pathetic for words.”

Felix had gotten something wrong there, but more importantly—

“I do not feign emotion,” said Dimitri, and shocked the both of them with the low anger in his voice. “Of course I have feelings. More than you could know, more than I could want.”

Felix was only caught off guard a moment. “Remire Village,” he said suddenly. “Not even one month ago. I saw you then. It doesn’t matter whether you feel or don’t feel, when you couldn’t contain it if you tried. Your facade’s been cracking ever since, boar prince. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat, you won’t rest until you’ve run yourself into the ground like the wild animal you are. That face of a prince you wear can’t hide what you are, a mindless beast consumed by its own bloodlust.”

His sword followed his words, pointing at Dimitri’s chest accusatorily before the lance rose and halted it in its path. Neither of them moved. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Felix said. “I hate that face on you, like you’re sorry. I don’t want to see it."

“We’ve trained enough for today,” Dimitri said softly. Felix made a noise of disappointed disgust, sword hand unwavering. “The monastery, it isn’t safe as of late. Any day now the professor will be called to her next mission, and us along with her. It would be best if we are prepared.”

“I know you won’t sleep even if we stop now. Don’t lie."

“Felix,” said Dimitri, free hand on the tip of the training sword in front of him. He pushed it down gently. “Thank you for sparring with me tonight. I think we had both better get some rest."

***

When the professor returned for him it was not to say that he became no longer dead, only that it was the closest he had come to being alive again in those five years.

“Everything will be alright,” she said, looking down on him with those luminous eyes, which were soft in a way he never would have thought possible when they had first met. He wanted to shake that gaze off himself physically. He had not asked to live again.

***

Felix was the only one who also believed he had died. At the time Dimitri had allowed this, one less person who looked for something human in him; now he was the one person Dimitri had to convince otherwise. Everyone else would be happy enough to accept that their future king had returned in time to lead the war.

He stood there for a long time dripping wet, making a puddle of rainwater on the ground in front of Felix’s room. Eventually he rested a hand flat against the door.

“Felix,” he said. “May I speak with you?”

“Go away,” came Felix’s voice from inside the room. It sounded clear and flat. Dimitri had not thought that he would be crying, but it surprised him nonetheless.

“I know you weren’t sleeping,” Dimitri said. He hesitated. “Come out."

The pool of water at his feet grew. Dimitri could still feel the warmth of the professor’s hand in his own, now anchoring him to Felix’s door. No matter what, he could not apologize; Felix would hate him for it, more than he already did.

Felix would have gotten him out of the room by any means he thought fit to employ, but he was not Felix and he could not be unkind to Felix. It didn’t go both ways. 

“You’re so selfish,” came the voice from behind the door again, just before Dimitri was about to turn and leave. “You think you know what’s best for everyone around you, pushing them away to feed your own self-sacrificial revenge crusade.”

“Felix,” said Dimitri. “I'm—”

“No one died for you,” Felix said. “Not even my old man.”

Dimitri listened to the water drip off himself onto the ground. 

Finally Felix said, “I really was sleeping.”

“Of course,” Dimitri said. “I’m sorry to have woken you so late.”

He waited a moment longer, to be sure Felix had nothing else to say, before he removed himself from the door and withdrew to his own quarters.

***

The Harpstring Moon brought with it both the advent of the rainy season and fresh energy to the monastery as the troops prepared to reclaim Fhirdiad. Although the days were warm and getting warmer, still the occasional chill stole over Garreg Mach, painting it cool and gray. 

This was one of those days. Dimitri felt the wind brush his cheek and he looked up and saw Felix leaning over the edge of the terrace atop the monastery, looking down back at him from high above. 

It seemed almost non-accidental, but the idea that Felix was waiting for him was even more implausible. He took the stairs two at a time, afraid Felix would have left by the time he reached the top, but he was still standing there and looking over the terrace’s edge. When he heard Dimitri’s footsteps he turned his head slightly, seeming to listen as Dimitri approached.

“Boar,” he said when the footsteps stopped.

“Felix."

Felix continued his surveyal of the monastery below. It was unclear what he was watching, since the grounds were quiet. Most of the soldiers were at the mess hall, where Dedue had scraped together some sort of resourceful but meager vegetable dish from the greenhouse’s stocks.

Although they interacted at war council meetings, they had not had occasion to speak since the exchange through Felix’s door that night. Dimitri found himself at a loss. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve eaten yet,” he said. “I was on my way to the dining hall, if you would care to join me.”

“No thanks,” Felix said bluntly. “I’m not hungry.”

Dimitri dropped pretenses and drew near until he was standing beside Felix over the balustrade. “Felix,” he said. “I—”

“Tell me, boar. Are you really human again, or are you only pretending?”

Dimitri paused. “I was never pretending.”

“To be human? Don’t make me laugh.”

“It was always me,” said Dimitri. “The Dimitri you once knew, and—the monster that you knew as well.”

“The Dimitri I once knew died nine years ago,” said Felix, “And now you’re wearing his face, telling me he was never gone. Am I supposed to just take you at your word?”

“For now my word is all I have to give.”

Felix’s profile was impassive, mouth turned slightly downward. Five years’ worth of war had filed the last remaining traces of youth from his face. As children they had watched each other grow up, but they had become men on their own.

“What did my old man say to you?”

“Rodrigue told me to live for myself.”

Felix said nothing, narrowing his eyes at the horizon. After a long moment he scoffed. “Fool,” he said, without feeling. “And the professor?”

“She said much the same. To forgive myself.”

Felix finally turned to look at him. Dimitri was surprised to see a trace of something else in his eyes, besides the hatred he was so accustomed to seeing there. 

“So was that all it took?” Felix said. “All this time, all this wallowing, the pain you inflicted and suffered. You were just waiting for them to feed you some pretty words?”

If this were anyone else, Dimitri thought, letting Felix’s sharp gaze bore a hole into him, they might say _Was I not enough?_ But this was Felix.

“You keep saying I died,” he wondered aloud, “but I think now, that you were never able to leave me for dead.” 

Felix bristled. “Does it matter anymore?”

“I wouldn't have blamed you if you had given up on me.”

“You wouldn’t have the right to."

“That—I know,” said Dimitri. “That burden was never meant to be yours.” 

Felix’s shoulders rose and fell. Dimitri realized, belatedly, that he was more upset than he was letting on. “Well, it did fall on me,” Felix said. “I was the only one who saw what you had become, boar.”

“Dedue, the professor—” 

“They did nothing.” 

“Don’t speak of them that way. They have always stood by me. I could have asked no more of them, the way I was.” 

“Standing by you,” Felix spat. “That’s the definition of nothing. They knew, and they still didn’t care enough to—” He broke off, hearing the implication, and then made it anyway. “I’m the only one,” he finished bitterly. “The only one who knew what you were and hated you for it.”

Felix’s face was twisting; he seemed unable to say what he wanted in a way that sounded right to himself. Dimitri felt his own face soften. For once he did not care that it would anger Felix.

“I see,” he said. “You are the only one.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Felix’s hands curl and uncurl by his sides and for a moment he thought he might strike him, but nothing came. Instead Felix’s gaze flickered down his face. Without thinking Dimitri mirrored the movement with his own good eye, and he knew Felix could not have missed it, and thought wildly that he might lean forward and put them both out of their misery. But neither of them moved. Now they were both standing there, stupid and breathing too loudly.

“Well?” Felix broke the silence, clearly prickling with fresh rage. “Take what you want, boar.”

Dimitri looked at him. _Sorry_, he wanted to say, because this was another thing he could not do for Felix. Whatever Felix saw in his expression he must have been finally unable to stand because it spurred him on to reach up, pull Dimitri down by the collar, and bite him on the lower lip like a mad dog.

“Ah,” said Dimitri, shocked and in pain. Then he could not say anything at all. Felix's lips were nearly as cold as the air atop the terrace was, but they were moving against his own. 

Dimitri was unable to close his eye. Felix’s were scrunched shut in concentration. He reached up hesitantly and threaded a hand through the back of Felix’s hair, and when there was no objection he moved it down to his neck, feeling the heat coming off his skin and the pulse jumping beneath it. He did not know which was more inconceivable, that someone so warm and alive was against him or that that person was Felix. 

“Stop being weird,” Felix muttered into his mouth. But he didn’t remove Dimitri’s hand and his own released its fistful of Dimitri’s collar and came to rest on his jaw. It was terribly gentle, as if he were not responsible for the blood in both their mouths. Dimitri ran out of breath. He caught Felix by the wrist and pushed him away, then held onto it for fear one of them would run, he knew not who. 

Felix’s face was flushed, and his hair had unraveled where Dimitri had carded through it. It was not a look Dimitri had ever seen on him before.

“Sorry about your mouth,” Felix said flatly, looking at it with more satisfaction than repentance.

“It’s alright.” Dimitri touched his lip with his free hand. “I only…was surprised. That you call me a beast, and yet you yourself…”

He thought Felix might truly hit him this time, but he only wrenched his wrist free and turned to leave the terrace.

“Where are you going?” Dimitri said to his back.

“To eat,” said Felix, as if it were obvious.

“Alone?” said Dimitri.

Felix stopped halfway through the door and turned, arms folded, to give him an incredulous look. It was a mark of how long they had known each other that Dimitri understood and made to follow him inside. But as he passed by, Felix made no move to start walking again.

“Boar prince,” he said. Dimitri stilled. “You’ll be taking back the Kingdom Capital.”

“You’ll be there as well,” said Dimitri.

Felix ignored this. “Don’t die,” he said.

“No,” Dimitri agreed. “I won’t."

“I mean it,” said Felix seriously. The shadows falling across his face made him look less sharp than usual, so much so it could make one want to push their luck, but Dimitri thought he had pushed it far enough already. “Don’t die again.”

“I never died the first time, Felix.” 

Felix snorted. “If you say so, boar.” He shouldered past Dimitri through the doorway, apparently having said what he had wanted.

Dimitri had not even thought to want to be called his own name again, but watching Felix's form retreat down the hallway, he found that he did want such things. Felix was fixing his hair as he went. It was almost easy to think Dimitri had imagined it all. Yet when he licked his lip he was surprised to find it was still bleeding, copiously even; he let the blood trickle over his tongue, imagining he could taste the iron. The figure in the hallway had reached the end and was glancing back at him. He followed Felix into the monastery.


End file.
